


Living Jigsaw

by simplecoffee



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: ...ish, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, alternate universe - hidden identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 16:17:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplecoffee/pseuds/simplecoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tony sorely needs, and is given, cuddles. Oh, and he's also Iron Man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living Jigsaw

**Author's Note:**

> Set in an AU MCU where Iron Man's identity isn't public knowledge yet. Written as gen with Tony/Pepperish tendencies, but you can totally read whatever pairings you like into it. :D 
> 
> For the [prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/17385.html?thread=38808041#t38808041): _There are a lot of fics out there where Tony's identity as Iron Man is secret and it comes out to another person somehow. I'd like a fic where this reveal is forced by Tony's somehow being sick enough to be near collapse, and therefore warrant the suit being forced open / helmet being taken off by the other party. (During or after a mission or just randomly, totally up to filler.) Would love, love, love it if the cause was a severe migraine or fever or both._
> 
> Turns out migrainefic is bait to me. Who's surprised? /no hands
> 
> (Also Nat-and-Tony friendship is the _best_ , y/y?)

Stark doesn't come to breakfast. Or lunch. 

Pepper says he's hung over. Clint says he may well be, but adds that if he were - curled up as he is in his hot rod in the pitch-dark garage - she wouldn't be stroking his hair and coaxing sip after sip of water into him the way she currently is.

*

Iron Man is more terse, less talkative than usual; there's a cautious ruthlessness to his movements Steve's never seen before. Fewer aerobatics, less dramatic flair, more focus; the banter is stilted, the running commentary all but gone. Their loss is felt keenly.

He's known to be close to Stark, of course - perhaps he's angry, or worried, or both.

The battle is long and hard, but it's drawing - _finally_ \- to a close when an enemy laser, a laser in a hundred, manages to get in a lucky shot. Iron Man spins and dives and rolls, takes the hit in Hawkeye's stead; he ploughs a furrow into the tarmac, cuts off communications _and stays down_.

Steve runs over the moment he can, heart pounding in his throat; there's not a dent to be seen in the armour, but the fallen bodyguard lies still.

 _Release him_ , snaps the voice of Agent Coulson over the comms. _There's no telling what damage he's taken. Release the helmet. Get him out **now**._

The HUD dies at a whispered command, and for the fleeting instant before they drop shut, the eyes behind the faceplate are warm and brown and glazed with pain. 

With trembling hands Steve reaches for the helmet, fumbles with the catch, curses his own terror. 

Natasha appears from nowhere and takes the reins, her dexterous hands releasing the helmet and proceeding to card through the sweat-soaked hair above a familiar, familiar face.

"Are you okay?" she's whispering, getting a mumbled answer, cradling Tony's head, stealing Clint's sunglasses and placing them over his eyes. Tony's relaxing ever so slightly and somehow still looking on the verge of tears, purring under the Widow's hands like a shivering cat in pain.

Tony Stark is Iron Man. Tony's responding to Natasha's crooning, raising a gauntleted hand to his head, holding on tightly when she offers him hers.

Tony Stark is Iron Man.

Tony Stark is Iron Man, and that's sure as hell no hangover.

*

Tony stumbles gracelessly out of the suit and into Pepper's waiting arms. She kisses his forehead, plies him with medicine, wraps him in blankets, and leaves his side only to issue a press release confirming the truth - because somebody has to.

(The Widow, when asked, says simply, "Migraine." It's enough.)

*

Steve finds the sofa occupied one evening, Pepper and Natasha on either side of the still-shaky-looking engineer; Bruce is curled up at their feet.

Warm brown eyes, still tired, still wavering, gaze up at him with weary trepidation.

"I'm glad you're feeling better, Tony," Steve says gently, and receives four smiles in vibrant accord.


End file.
